The Telvanni Dragonborn
by Skyrimthief235
Summary: Castras always knew that dragons were real from a young age, when he had an encounter with one near Mournhold in Morrowind. Raised by his uncle Neloth most of his life, the Imperial-Dunmer hybrid decides to head to Skyrim and what he finds within the cold, unforgiving land of the Nords is completely unexpected.
1. Introduction

Dragons were real.

Castras Telvanni had known this his whole life, ever since he'd lived in Morrowind with his parents and had found one in a cave after escaping her grasp to explore. The dragon had let him approach it, seeing as he was only a boy, but flew off when it- no he, Castras had somehow instinctively knew it was a male, had touched him. It was like the dragon had seen something in him and feared it. He could actually feel the waves of emotion coming from the dragon and before he had flown off, he had said one thing in a strange language.

_Hin mahtiid los vul, mal gein. _

He had told no one of what he saw or heard for fear that his mother would not let him out of her sight. Though, that did not stop him from thinking of it everyday of his life. Shortly after seeing the dragon, the Argonian's invaded his home, Mournhold. His father died protecting him and his mother, his mother killing the nameless Argonian while he was distracted by his father. In the aftermath of the battle for Mournhold, where the Argonian's took control of the city, his mother took him to live with her brother, Neloth, on the island of Solstheim. A month after living with him, his mother fell ill and not even Neloth's most powerful Restoration spells nor his alchemist's potions did any good and she died soon after.

Castras was a strange sort of breed. Mainly because his father was an Imperial and his mother a Dunmer. He'd the accent of the Dunmer, the skin of an Imperial, the red eyes of his mother, and the red hair of his father. He also aged as the Dunmer did, he was nearly two hundred years old and barely looked past his twenties.

Living with his uncle Neloth was a strange thing because the wizard was arrogant, proud, and most of all, unafraid of punishment. Castras could not count how many times he had been on the receiving end of a Sparks spell to his behind for his insolence. However much Neloth punished the boy, he loved him as if he was his own son and Castras soon took to him as a father figure, becoming his second shadow and trying to imitate all the spells and the way he talked.

Castras become Neloth's apprentice, learning spells most wouldn't dream of ever trying. He was quite gifted in the art of magic and when a mercenary by the name of Teldryn Sero came to live with Uncle Neloth for a few years, he taught him how to swing a blade, and how to become a great swordsman. Due to his training with both, Castras became a powerful spellsword. In the year 201 of the Fourth Era, he decided to visit Skyrim, he'd heard tales of from Teldryn about the people who lived there, the Nords. They were a proud people, large in stature and even larger in pride. Apparently, when the White-Gold Concordat was signed, one of the agreements was the ban of the worship of Talos which stirred up arguments from Skyrim and now there was a civil war in the province. The Stormcloaks, the rebels, wanted the Empire out while the Empire was trying to keep its hold on Skyrim.

Frankly, Castras thought it was all worthless, the worship of most of the Divines. He thought the only things worth worshiping was someone's prowress in battle and Akatosh, the only Aedra he thought was worth worshiping.

On his way to Skyrim, he had to pass through Morrowind and then Cyrodiil due to roadblocks to keep the rebels from spreading out of Skyrim and for some reason, they would not let anyone into the province. He finally managed to find an unmaned pass when Imperials swarmed out of the trees, the ground and bushes to attack a group of men further down the road. One of the soldiers thought that Castras was with them and before he could explain, the soldier hit him on the head with a club, knocking him out.

And so our story begins..

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**A/N: Hello again! I decided to turn that one-shot into a full fledged story. Well this is just an introduction but for tonight, it's all I shall be doing. I will try to post the first chapter sometime this week but school might have other plans for that. Leave a review and enjoy!**


	2. Helgen

**Sundas, 17th of Last Seed, 4E 201**

Castras woke up with a pounding headache, wondering where he was. In a flash, everything came back to him, the ambush, the soldier who clubbed him. He heard people talking and kept his eyes closed, hoping they still thought he was unconscious. Did they know who he was? No, he was a long way from Morrowind and even further from Solstheim. His last name would hold no power here, especially not since Morrowind seceded from the Empire.

He leaned back and slowly opened his eyes, scanning his surroundings. He was in a cart with three other prisoners, a blonde Nord in blue armor across from him, a ragged-looking man who basically screamed terror next to the blonde, and a gagged noble sitting next to him.

"You Nords have a funny way of saying hello to foreigners," He said blandly, smirking at the Nord's expressions at his accent. "What? Cats got your tongues or are you simply basking in my appearance?"

"You're an Imperial, yet you speak like a Dark Elf," The blonde said, the surprise still on his voice.

"Well, aren't you a smart one! Yes I speak like a Dunmer, as is the correct term, because I am half Imperial, half Dunmer, satisfied? Good, now shut up." He turned to the noble and reached over and pulled his gag down so he could talk. "Listen, whoever you are, you're clearly a noble so could you please get us out of this mess and my possessions back to me before I start murdering everyone?"

The Nord just looked at him as if he'd gone crazy before looking at the blonde, and then back at him. Castras had to hold himself back from slapping the man,"You do realize that if you don't get me out of this, the first person to taste my Lightning Bolts will be you, right?"

That seemed to anger the Nord, as he practically bristled, and looked like he was about to argue when the blonde butted in, "Sir, your mouth is free and you can talk. More importantly, Shout."

Castras had no idea what the difference was between the two until the noble grinned at him and stood up, reaching toward the driver and wrapping his bound hands around his throat. The blonde jumped off the back on the cart, landing on the soldier behind them and wrestling him to the ground, headbutting him and knocking the soldier out. Once the noble finished strangling the soldier driving, he quickly took the man's sword and cut his binds, and took the reins, slowing the wagon to a stop.

Castras held out his wrists to be released when the Nord grinned at him wickedly, "Oh no, those robes and rings on you mark you as an elf of stature and power. I'm not taking the chance that you might be a Thalmor agent. Ralof, help me with this one."

The last words were barely out of the man's mouth before Castras was on him, choking him, sending small bolts of electricity through his body. He was pulled off him by Ralof, who Castras rammed his head backward into his face, swiftly turned around and kicked him in the stomach, then face, sending him into the ground. He turned back to the noble, who was getting up , quickly kicked him in the stomach and took the dead soldier's sword away from him. He cut his binds and started looking around the wagon for his stuff before he realized there was another prisoner still in the cart. He turned to face the man, who looked like he was about to faint.

"You with them?" Castras pointed at the downed soldiers. He almost laughed as the color drained from the brunette's face as he shook his head. "Good, then you get to stay conscious."

"Do you realize who you just attacked?" The man said in a shaky voice. "You attacked Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm, and leader of the Stormcloak Rebellion. He's going to kill you, if we make it out of this alive."

Castras laughed, much to the shock of the brunette, "Listen, whatever your name is, I don't care who these people are. They tried to take me prisoner and so they deserved what they got. Understand me? I would kill them but it would be wrong to kill an unarmed man, especially unconcious."

The brunette shook his head and jumped out of the cart, running back toward Cyrodiil. _Shame, he was quite amusing_, Castras thought, watching him go. He found his stuff shoved ungracefully into a bag hanging off the wagon. _Strange.. Why hasn't anyone else come to get the cart, I mean if that Ulfric fellow is as important as the brunette said, shouldn't someone notice his disappearance? _Castras thought as he pulled his leather armor on and covered them with his Telvanni robes. He pulled on his mother's ring, Neloth's necklace, and his Ebony sword belt on, keeping the weapon unsheathed.

He walked over to the Nord soldier Ralof had knocked out and kicked him lightly in the head, trying to wake him up. "Hey, you, brunette, wake up." The man groaned and rolled over as Castras kept kicking him, getting more and more agitated as the man wouldn't wake up. He finally gave up and bent down and sent a small volt of electricity through the man. At that, the soldier yelped and sat up, looking up to Castras glaring at him. "Come on, we're heading toward your superiors to explain this. Come on." The soldier looked at Castras confused and Castras sighed, threw his hands up and decided to leave the man there.

He started walking toward the way the wagons were heading, when he heard a roar he hadn't heard in over two hundred years. He froze on the spot, trying to decide whether the hit to the head had done more damage than he thought or a dragon was nearby. He started running toward the sound and rounded a bend to see a black, spiky dragon razing the entire village before him with fire. He ran toward the town, if only to be closer to the creature.

When he reached the gates, they were already burnt, clawed and torn to pieces. He ran through them to find a group of Imperial soldiers shooting arrows at the dragon. The arrows couldn't pierce the dragon's hide and slid off him and didn't even seem to bother the dragon as it- no he, a strange instinct told him it was a he, spread destruction across the village.

"What the hell? Where did you come from?!" Yelled a man in a general's set of armor yelled at Castras. The general looked over Castras' shoulder and yelled, "Hadvar! Where have you been? Get to the keep boy! You too! Go!"

"Yes, General Tulius!" The soldier Castras had left at the cart was already sprinting toward the keep and Castras stood there, staring at the dragon with wonder and awe. "I said run you idiot!" The general shouted, pushing him toward the keep.

Castras followed Hadvar to the keep and as they passed under a small gateway, the dragon picked up a soldier from the wall and dropped him, he landed next to Castras, covering his robes with the man's intestines. "Oh well now that's just plain nasty." Was all Castras could say before the dragon landed in front of them and let loose a wall of flame at them, that Castras blocked with a Ward.

_Zu'u Alduin, zok sahrot do naan ko Lein! _

Castras somehow instinctively understood that it meant,"I am Alduin, most mighty of any in the World!" He was puzzled by how he knew the words and even more by the words that came out of his lips.

_"Zu'u los Castras, lif nu!" I am Castras, leave now! _What the hell was wrong with him? How did he know these words?

He could feel the confusion roll off the dragon, which was quickly replaced by anger as Castras sent a Lightning Bolt at the dragon's face. Hadvar pulled him into the keep before he could do anything else to piss the dragon off.

Once inside, and peeking out to make sure the dragon was raging at the town instead of ripping the keep apart, Hadvar looked at him strangely. "Either stop staring or start talking," Castras said, tired of people staring at him.

"How did you know that dragon said and how did you speak that language?" Hadvar asked, still staring.

"I don't know, and if I did, I wouldn't tell you! Especially not after _you _knocked me out while I was trying to explain I wasn't with those damned Stormcloaks." Hadvar looked down, ashamed.

"I'm sorry about that.. You were wearing funny robes-" Castras slapped him at that, but he continued, unabashed, "I couldn't take the chance."

"You idiot! You nearly got me killed!" Castras slapped him again and walked past him, pulling on a chain and looked back toward Hadvar, who was still standing there looking at him with a dumb expression on his face and Castras sighed. "Are you coming or do you want to be eaten by Alduin?"

At the mention of the dragon's name, Hadvar's expression turned whiter than milk. "How... How do you know the dragon's name?" He asked. Was the dragon important?

"Well I understood what he said. Simple. Now move before I drag you." Castras said simply before motioning that Hadvar should move.

**To Be Continued...**


	3. The Redhead

**Sundas, 17th of Last Seed, 4E 201**

Castras sighed with relief as he finally caught sight of Whiterun. He and Hadvar had made their way out of the keep and to the town of Riverwood where Hadvar's uncle, Alvor, had graciously lent them a hand and allowed them to rest and gather supplies. Hadvar had borrowed Alvor's only horse and rode off toward Solitude, while Castras strode toward the city of Whiterun, both of them intending to warn people and the Jarls -Castras thought 'Jarl' was a weird word and gave Alvor a weird look when he'd said it- about the dragon attack at Helgen.

_If only Neloth could see me now... Then again, the old man would probably say something about my posture and make a scathing remark about the condition of my clothes.._ Castras thought, looking down at himself. His robes were of the finest cloth and they were torn, stained, and bloodied in some places. He sighed once more, this time sadly, at the condition of his clothes. It was going to take more than a quarter of his coin to repair them, he'd only been given a thousand from his uncle and they were worth more than that but hopefully the tailor in Whiterun, if there was one, wouldn't know that.

As he walked toward the gates, his ears picked up the sound of metal hitting against what sounded like rock. Then came an earth rumbling thump against the ground and Castras saw something fly into the air. _What the..._ Castras thought before the object came back down and landed on top of a house and fell to the ground. Investigating, Castras found the body of a guard._ What could possibly do this? _

He ran toward where he saw the guard fly up and saw a giant fighting against three warriors. A Nord man was wielding a greatsword, clad in steel armor; an Imperial woman was only in hide armor, bashing in the giant's knees with her shield; an archer was firing from somewhere, but from his position, Castras couldn't see who they were. Castras pulled out his Ebony sword and threw it at the giant, using a spell to guide it directly between the giant's eyes. The great figure fell to the ground, nearly smashing the Imperial woman as he fell. Castras called back his weapon, using the Telekinesis spell.

"You could make for a decent Shield-Brother, if I say so myself," A voice said from behind Castras. In an instant he'd spun around and had his sword under the throat of a Nord woman, her bow by her side, and a smirk on her face, half hidden by her long red hair. Castras was about to question her by what she meant when a pair of strong arms wrapped around his torso and lifted him up, pinning his arms to his sides. _Well, that explains the smirk.._

Turning his head slightly, Castras could see the steel-clad Nord who had been fighting the giant was the one picking him up. He squirmed in his grasp, managing to get a grasp on his armor and sent a volt of electricity through it. Smirking as the man dropped him, Castras thanked Azura that steel was such a great conductor of electricity.

His smirk soon faded when he stood up and came face-to-face with an arrow, the redhead grinning wolfishly at him from the other end.

"You're a feisty one, aren't ya? I like a man, or elf, whatever, who has a little fire in his blood. Makes for interesting character, although I do disapprove of the magic use," She said, still grinning.

"Oh yes, because the reason I wake up in the morning is to gain the approval of you Nords," Castras replied, regretting those words as soon as her foot came into contact with a certain spot between his legs, bringing him to his knees.

She leaned down, grabbing his chin with one hand and tilting his head up toward her face. Their noses were centimeters apart and she had a certain fire in her eyes that made Castras smirk. She wasn't offended by his remark, she just wanted to show that she was the alpha wolf. Castras broke free of her grip and stood, still smirking at the Nord.

"You know, if you weren't such an ass, I might find you to be good company, elf," She said, glaring at him.

"Well if you weren't such a barbarian, you might actually meet the nice me," Castras said, sneering at the woman. She unnerved him for some reason, he wasn't sure if he liked that.

After he finished his comment, her steel-clad friend finally recovered from the unexpected volt to his body and glared at Castras before muttering, "Damn mages.." and walking toward the city.

"Great, now you've upset Farkas," She said disapprovingly.

"He'll get over it, he just needs to hit something. That's what you Nords do, right?"

"Don't make me kick you again."

"Bah, I don't need this from you. I'm done with this conversation, Nord."

"Fine!"

"Fine!" Castras turned on his heel and walked to Whiterun, feeling the redhead's glare on his back.

**To Be Continued...**

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**A/N: Hello wonderful peoples! Sorry this took so long, I've been neglecting you good people :( But that shall end now! I'll try and post more chapters for this story. Oh, and one last thing, I did take down Jack Wolf and Gwynek. I just... Lost feeling with them; I lost my muse for them. If I do ever decide to keep writing them, I'll re-post them and you know, do my stuff, but until then, nope.**


	4. Horrible Mornings

**Sundas, 17th of Last Seed, 4E 201**

It was night when Castras finally reached the tavern, the Bannered Mare, according to the sign outside. As soon as he stepped inside, his nose was ravaged by the smell of dank mead and unwashed, warm bodies. He covered his nose with his hand as he walked to the bar, ignoring the glances from strangers at his robes. Let them stare, he didn't care, he was proud of his ancestry and gladly showed off who he was.

"I need a room, some wine, and something to eat," He said firmly to the barkeep, smirking at her expression to his accent.

"That'll be.. 'Bout thirty septims, I'd say," She said," Ten for the room, ten for the food, and ten for the wine. Wine isn't cheap these days and the produce is hard to get since the farmers keep raising their prices due to the war."

"Yes, yes, I don't need an explanation. Just get me the food please, I'm starving," He said, noticing the Redhead and her friends from earlier entering the Inn. Her eyes met his and he swore he saw a hint of interest before it turned cold.

"So, you're here, I'm here, Farkas is here, and you owe him something," The Redhead said, walking up to him and leaning against the bar, her arms crossed and a smirk playing across her pretty face.

"I do not owe him anything, thank you very much," Castras said, turning back to the bar as the innkeeper placed the bowl of stew in front of him, looking nervously at him and the woman.

"Yes you do," Came a voice from behind him. Castras halfway turned in his seat to see a thinner version of Farkas behind him, wearing different armor. He looked like he actually had a trace of intelligence in his head.

"No. I don't. Why do you fools think that I do?" Castras asked, exasperated. He did not owe the man anything, why did they keep insisting that he did?

"Yes. You do. You owe him an apology for doing whatever the hell you did to him near the Pelagia Farm," The fiery-haired woman said, leaning closer. "And if you refuse to give one, his twin, Vilkas, wishes to have a word with you about it."

"You know, I know his name, he's Farkas, and him, he's Vilkas, but you... I don't know your name even though you are giving me quite the interesting day," Castras said, giving up on the hope that he would be able to eat in peace and turning to the woman.

"Me? I am Aela the Huntress, my family has been apart of the Companio-" Aela started.

"Yes, yes, I only wanted your name, not a history lesson," Castras interrupted, noting that the twins face's paled at seeing someone have the guts to interrupt her. "Now, Aela, listen here, and listen close, for I am only going to say this once. I am only here as a favor to an acquaintance who needs help. I do not wish to be hauled to the dungeons for murder. Please let me eat my food; sleep, deliver my message, get supplies, and repair my equipment. I promise that after I'm done with my business here, I'll leave as soon as my two feet can carry me. If that doesn't work for you, oh well, I'll probably have to contact my uncle for help and he wouldn't be too happy about that. No, he wouldn't indeed. So I ask this of you, let me do my thing, you do yours, and we both stay out of each other's lives, okay? Sound good? Great. Now leave me be. Farkas, I am dearly sorry for the pain I inflicted upon you earlier today, I was only defending myself. I see you were only trying to protect your friend here and I understand, and respect that. Now please, the three of you, leave me to my food," At that, he turned his back on them and returned to his food, making slight slurping sounds as he ate.

"Come on ice-brain, come on Vilkas, leave the milk-drinker be," Aela muttered to their great surprise. She started to walk away before turning back to the twins with an irritated look on her face, "What are you two doing? Are you going to stand there and gawk at him all night or are you going to join the rest of the group?" They broke free from their surprised and followed her over to the rest of the Companions.

"Just so you know Aela," Castras yelled over to her over the sound of the Inn, finished with his stew, "I don't drink milk, I drink wine."

"That's basically the same thing, elf; the only thing worth drinking is some good, Nordic mead," She replied stiffly, looking at him.

"Whatever you think, now if you'll excuse me, I am going to retire, goodnight Companions," He yelled over his shoulder, and without waiting for a reply, walked up the stairs to his room and closed the door.

Farkas leaned over to Vilkas and whispered in his hear, "How in Oblivion did he get Aela to leave him alone? I need to learn his secret."

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**Morndas, 18th of Last Seed, 4E 201**

Castras didn't like mornings; especially not the one after his encounter with Aela.

First thing that went wrong was that he was rudely awoken by the bard singing a song from Morrowind horribly, which prompted Castras to go to the small balcony overlooking the common area and throwing a bowl at the man's head, knocking him out.

Second thing that went wrong was the fine he had to pay for assault with a bowl. There went forty septims down the drain.

Third thing that went wrong was the Imperial Companion from yesterday, Ria, if he remembered correctly, had passed out at the bar. The Innkeeper couldn't get anyone to take the woman back up to Jorrvaskr and so, feeling bad for the woman, Castras volunteered, hoping he wouldn't have to see Aela again. Of course when he knocked on the doors to the mead hall, the redhead opened the doors and took the woman, giving Castras the strangest of looks that he could not figure out.

Fourth thing that went wrong that morning was the local priest, Heimskr, apparently thought Castras a Talos worshiper for some reason and gave him his full sermon for over an hour. It was like the Nords had conjured up a new form of torture. When he finally managed to get away from the man, he had learned far more than he needed to know about Talos than he had ever wanted to.

Castras' morning was not a good one in his books; he could not remember one as bad as it before. He nearly considered murdering that priest based solely on that sermon. The man was so loud, he could hear him even from his room in the Bannered Mare. He discarded the thought of murder after realizing that in no way could he get away with it, everyone would notice the disappearance of the priest, considering you could hear him halfway across the Province.

He sighed, stepping out of the inn, and looked up toward the keep. Now was as good a time to deliver the message to the Count- Jarl, the word was Jarl- as any. Hopefully his morning would get better after delivering it. He smiled as he walked down through the town, thinking of the gold he might get for giving the message.

**To Be Continued...**

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**A/N: And so another chapter to my story! I've noticed that my chapters tend to be short.. They seem so long on the document but when I release them, they look so short.. Anyways, good people, I hope you like the story so far! **


	5. Dragonsreach

**Morndas, 18th of Last Seed, 4E 201**

Castras stopped at the stairs leading up to Dragonsreach. Why did Nords love stairs so much? There were stairs leading from one district to another, stairs leading to the tavern, stairs leading to Jorrvaskr, stairs leading to homes, stairs just everywhere. Castras sighed before starting up them, wishing his legs luck.

**Fifteen Minutes Later...**

Castras leaned against the side of the post, glaring at the guard chuckling at him.

"First time climbing these steps? Yeah, you travelers wander everywhere yet when it comes to those stairs, your legs seem to weaken. Heh heh happens to everyone... I remember my days as an adventurer. Yeah that's right, I was one too. That is, until I took an arrow to the knee."

"Who.. the fuck.. asked you.." Castras weezed, trying to catch his breath.

"Well then, rude ass," The guard said, going back to his rounds, heading down the steps.

"Fucking Nords, who the fuck wants to talk to random strangers when you're trying to do stuff?" Castras wondered aloud to himself.

"Well, it's a great way to make friends, a talent you obviously never learned."

He drew his blade and he spun around, only to find Aela there smirking at him. "Well this is familiar... you're rather jumpy, aren't ya? That shows paranoia, which is useful at certain times, but what do you have to be paranoid about? Vengeful ex-lover? Family fueds? Guilty conscience? I wonder which it is," She went on, circling him as she spoke.

"I was taught to always be paranoid, it can save your life. It's saved me quite a few times from wannabe bandits," Castras replied, sheathing his sword and turning his back on her and walking toward the doors of the keep.

She followed him, still going on about something; he tuned her out. He'd learned how to tune things out, had to if he were to survive Neloth's rants. He halted in his tracks when he saw the gleam of a blade in firelight.

"Who are you to disrupt Jarl Balgruuf?" Said an angry-looking Dunmeri woman said, glaring at him from the other end of her blade, which was aimed at his throat.

"I am Castras Telvanni, here on behalf of Alvor of Riverwood. Also, I have news from Helgen that is to be told to the Jarl immediately," Castras said, slowly moving the blade away from his face and toward the ground. The woman didn't look happy about it but she sheathed her weapon and gestured for him to follow.

"Well, that explains why the guards let you in. But I have to ask, why are you, a Telvanni wizard, in Skyrim, delivering messages like a common courier?" The woman questioned, looking at Castras.

_Does she have another facial expression besides pissed off? _Castras thought. "Well you see, whatever your name is, I wanted adventure and my Uncle Neloth thought it best for me to experience the world and blow stuff up. One of his favorite pastimes. That and he wanted me to try out some new stuff for him, as these experiments cannot be done on the ashy island of Solstheim."

The woman stopped dead in her tracks and turned around with an incredulous look on her face. _Oh, so perhaps she does.._ "Neloth? Your uncle is Neloth Telvanni and you _live _with him?" She asked, her voice rising in disbelief.

"Yes, is that so hard to believe?"

"Well, let's just say you must be of his blood if you can stand that man," She laughed, turning around and motioning for him to follow her again.

They stopped in front of a throne with the head of a dragon adorned above it. Sitting upon the throne was a man, probably somewhere in his sixties, maybe early fifties. He was wearing some fine robes of the nobles, had blonde hair with a matching beard, some fur-lined boots, and topping it all off was a circlet which probably served as his crown, or symbol of power. He had a face like chiseled stone as he looked upon his guest but Castras could see laugh lines around his eyes and mouth, so he had a sense of humor. He had an air of confidence around him and even though he was slouched in his throne, he held his head high with pride.

"Would I be correct in guessing that you would be this Jarl Balgruuf the Greater I've heard so much about?" Castras asked, giving a slight bow. He would have kneeled but as a Telvanni noble, he did not feel he needed to. This seemed to offend the Dunmer woman as her hand went to the hilt of her sword.

The blonde noticed this and motioned for her to calm and reluctantly, she did. "Yes, yes I would. Now who are you to disrupt my meeting? I may have the reputation of a patient man but it is offensive to disrupt someone like this. Who are-"

The Dunmeri woman sighed and laid a hand on Balgruuf's shoulder, stopping his beginning rant. "Balgruuf, he's a Telvanni. They have no sense of respect for others, not even other Telvannis. He says he's here on behalf of Alvor of Riverwood and has news from Helgen." She gave emphasis on the word 'Helgen' and gave him a look. His eyes widened slightly and he nodded, turning back to Castras.

"So, you're here on behalf of Alvor, eh? He's the blacksmith, right? Yes, now I remember. Good, reliable man, not one for fanciful tales and the like. What's his message, and for that matter, what news from Helgen do you have? We sent messengers to there but have only had reports that it's filled with bandits and looks burned to the ground."

Castras cleared his throat and began pacing a small line in front of the Jarl as he spoke. "Alvor requests for more guards to be sent to Riverwood, as it is defenseless. If it seems out of the blue-" the woman gave a small noise from her throat and Castras stopped for a second before continuing. "Anyways, as I was saying: If it seems out of the blue, it is because of the news from Helgen. Helgen has been destroyed... By a dragon."

Balgruuf and the woman didn't really seem to be affected except that Balgruuf smirked up at her, as if he was gloating. The real reaction came from behind him, he'd forgotten Aela was still there. She gasped and then laughed, earning weird looks from everyone.

"A dragon, eh? Was it big? Was it scary? Oh yes! I can't wait for it to attack.." She trailed off, realizing that she was saying that she was hoping the dragon would attack Whiterun. In front of the Jarl. She closed her mouth and stepped back, slightly bouncing up and down excitedly.

Jarl Balgruuf raised his eyebrow at her and then moved his gaze to the woman. "I told you, Irileth. I told you that was what I saw from my balcony. You didn't believe me. Now, we should send reinforcements to Riverwood and Rorikstead immediately." Irileth nodded and hurried off outside the keep. He stood and motioned for Castras to follow, and dismissed Aela.

Balgruuf led him up some stairs to the right of his throne and through some great doors to a giant balcony. The first things Castras noticed on the balcony was the amount of guards and the equipment hanging in the darkness above.

"What are those?" Castras asked, pointing to where they hung.

Balgruuf stopped and craned his neck upward at them. "Oh, those old things. Those are basically a dragon version of stockade. Here, let me tell you the history of Dragonsreach." He kept walking as he spoke, leading to a table at the edge of the balcony, offering a great view of the Northern plains of Whiterun that lead into the snowy Pale.

"According to legend, the palace today known as 'Dragonsreach' was originally a smaller building. Olaf One-Eye had the intent of creating a prison for the dragon Numinex after its-"

"He, m'lord."

"Excuse me?"

"The dragon your Olaf One-Eye captured was a he," Castras said firmly.

"How would you know this? This story was years and years ago, even the accounts of how Olaf defeated Numinex, transported him, and about everything in between is still disputed by scholars to this day!" Jarl Balgruuf exclaimed.

"Yes, but you see, Numinex is not a feminine name for dragons," Castras said with a serious face.

Balgruuf's face changed into three emotions, one after the other. First it was disbelief, then it was incredulous, and then it turned to laughter. He laughed and laughed and laughed. The dignified Jarl of Whiterun actually fell out of his chair laughing so hard. Castras gave him a glare as he managed to regain his self-composure, pulling himself back in his chair.

"Oh, I've heard some things in my years but that has to be the richest. I like you, elf. Now, back to business. Tell me what happened at Helgen."

And Castras did, from start to finish, from the time he awoke in the back of that cart to the end when he snuck past a bear to freedom. When he finished, he noticed that the Jarl's demeanor and jolly mood had darkened. His skin had also gotten paler when he'd mentioned the dragon's name, Alduin.

"So.. That's about it. That's my account of what happened at Helgen," Castras finished. He picked up a goblet and drank deeply, soothing his throat from use.

"Alduin.. This is bad indeed. What troubles me more is that you _spoke _to the dragon, or, at least you say so. I'm going to have to have General Tulius to send Hadvar back to give me his account of the story, just to be sure."

Castras stood, knocking his chair back as he did so. He was offended. This.. this Nord didn't believe him? He was a Telvanni. They were a rude people, but they were not liars. "We Telvannis may be rude, we may be arrogant, but we are not liars. If you do not believe my account of Helgen, then that's your problem! He'll tell you the same damn thing I did. How dare you, sir! I shall take my leave of you, Jarl Balgruuf. Good day." With that, he left an offended and shocked Balgruuf behind, staring at his retreating back.

**To Be Continued...**

* * *

**A/N: I could give you the usual excuses, family, school, etc. But I wont. The reason this chapter took so long is because I was being a lazy ass. I apologize for it, but I'm back and ready to write! Also, working on a Fallout fic and I'll release it soon! Enjoy the chapter!  
~Skyrimthief235**


	6. Bar Fights

**Morndas, 18****th**** of Last Seed, 4E 201**

Castras stormed into the Bannered Mare, steaming over his meeting with the Jarl. He was so angry, that he didn't notice as he slammed the doors to the inn, attracting glares from the drunks nursing hangovers from the previous night.

"Hey! Keep it down!" The barkeep said, managing to keep her voice to a level to where the drunks didn't glare at her. "Keep up that racket and I'll lose customers. These drunks need a place to sober up after a night of partying."

"Sorry," He said curtly. He sat down at the bar and ordered some Cyrodilic wine. While Castras had no love for the Empire, the natives of the Empire's main province made some damn fine wine. When the barkeep came back with the bottle, she raised her eyebrows as Castras took the bottle and nearly ripped the cork off with his teeth before spitting it out into a bucket. He was about to raise it to his lips to down before he realized something. Why was he going to get drunk? Because an insignificant Nord thought he was a liar? Fuck that. It wasn't his fault the man was an idiot. He put the bottle down and looked at the barkeep, whose eyebrows were still raised. He just grunted and retrieved the cork from the bucket and replaced it before holding it out to the barkeep.

"Well that's strange, never seen anyone except overly-religious knights and priests and priestesses stop themselves from drinking. You sure don't seem any of the above so why'd you stop? Have an epiphany?" The barkeep asked, pulling a rag out of her pocket and wiping down the bar.

"No," Castras answered, "Just realizing that your Jarl is a pig-headed son of a-"

He was interrupted by a cup of mead slamming down on his head. He crumpled to the floor and was seized by his armpits by two people and held up while a face filled his view. It was one of three of a group of big, burly Nords in steel armor that'd been in the inn for a few days. Castras had just thought that they were local mercenaries, probably with the Companions or something, although he hadn't seen them with Aela, Farkas, and the others last night.

"What was that you were saying about our Jarl?" He grunted, his rank breath burning Castras' nostrils.

"That he's a pig-headed son of a whore. Are you two related because I'm pretty sure you have the same mother," Castras drawled, keeping his head up even though he was still regaining feeling from the hit on the head. He already had a plan forming in his head on how to get out of the two men's grip on his arms.

It took a few minutes for the idiot to figure out what Castras said, a bewildered look settling on his face before it was replaced with anger. He aimed a punch at Castras' face but he was stronger than the two idiots who had a grip on him thought and he was able to pull the idiot on his left in front of him so the man's fist slammed into other's steel chest plate. While Idiot Number One was holding his hand in pain, crying for his mommy, Idiot Number Two was still trying to figure out how he was moved. Idiot Number Three had more brain cells than the others and tightened his grip on Castras but flew back when Castras did what he did to Farkas and used his armor as a conductor to singe the arm hair off of the man and fry those last few brain cells of his with a quick Spark spell. He dropped like a bag of rotten potatoes. Idiot Number Two barely had time to think before a Bound Dagger pierced the back of his skull. Castras dismissed the Dagger and cracked his neck. There'd be a bump on the back of his head, it was throbbing, but it'd be easy to fix later with a healing spell.

"Sadia, go! Get the guards!" The barkeep whispered urgently to the Redguard waitress who ran out of the Inn before Castras could stop her.

Idiot Number One was just staring up at Castras in horror. "You're… You're a mage? Aw fuck, I wouldn't have taken the job if I knew you were one of them fancy mages," He groaned. "You killed Jorgen and Laron! They were my best friends!" He curled up into a ball and started sobbing, leaving Castras to stand there awkwardly, not sure whether to kill him or wait for the guards

He didn't have to do either because a few seconds after that, the guards burst in, followed by the waitress, Sadia. "Halt! What's going on in here?" The guard said, looking at the dead body, the crying man, the man who smelled like fried bacon, and then to Castras, muttered, "Damn mages…", Under his breath. He was going to step forward but then he stopped and cocked his head. "Wait a minute… I know you…" He said slowly. Castras thought he was going to be arrested for something he didn't do (and the three men on the floor but that had a clear excuse: self-defense.) When the guard said, "You're that traveler that was being rude atop the stairs to Dragonsreach! I'm going to enjoy arresting you."

"Wait!" The barkeep yelled. "He's innocent, these men attacked him first; I saw the whole thing from behind the bar. This man… Or elf, whatever the fuck he is, was just sitting there when these three dumbasses attacked him. Arrest that man, the one sobbing on the floor, not the one in the weird robes."

The guard looked at Castras, who shrugged, and back at the barkeep. He turned toward Sadia and spoke, "Is what Hulda says true?"

"Yes sir. Every word, I was in the back, which has a perfect view onto the spot of which the fight happened, and witnessed every bit of it. That hybrid there was just minding his own business when those men attacked him."

The guard sighed and tried to rub the bridge of his nose before remembering he had a helmet on. "I guess… I have to let you go," He said through gritted teeth to Castras. "Come on you," He said to the man on the floor, drawing his sword. He pulled the man up and then put the sword to the back on his neck, lightly pressing it. "Come on, let's go. Stop bawling, would you?"

He was almost out the door when Castras called out. "Hey! Guard!" When he turned around, he continued. "May I question this man for a minute? He said something about a job and I figure it's some kind of hit so I must find out what this imbecile knows."

The guard hesitated before answering. "Take it up with the Captain," Was all he said before walking the still-bawling man out of the inn.

Castras walked over to the bar and sat down and didn't move for the rest night, thinking of the incident. Castras didn't know when but at some time, someone moved the bodies out. He ordered some stew and a glass of wine, but otherwise spent the rest of the night at the bar, racking his brain to try and think of anyone who would want him dead. They obviously weren't Morag Tong assassins, too stupid and too Nord to be with them. Not with the Companions, only person he'd pissed off lately with them was Aela-who he ignored when she came in with her pals and gave him a curious look which he say from out of the corner of his eye.

But who would want him dead?

**To Be Continued…**


	7. Flashbacks

**Tirdas, 19****th**** of Last Seed, 4E 201**

Castras lay awake in bed, clutching his sword that was placed between his legs. He was listening hard for the creaking sound of footsteps outside of his door. A few times during the night, he'd heard some but it was just drunken patrons turning in for the night.

Around midnight, the creaking finally came. He'd made sure to get the room with the loose floorboard in front of the door for exactly this reason. Then, bit by bit, the door slowly opened. A shadowy figure, barely illuminated by the light from outside, poked their head in to see if he was asleep. Apparently satisfied that he was, the shadowy figure continued to make their way into his room. They slowly tiptoed over to his bed and stood there, looking down upon his prone form. Castras opened his eyes just enough to where he could see what they were doing, but not enough to where they could see he was awake and watching.

The trespasser moved their hand into a pocket inside their coat and that's when Castras pounced. He managed to tackle them, taking them surprise but this person was not going to give up that easy. They fought upon the floor, wrestling to get on top. At one point Castras did and was about to put his sword to their throat then the intruder punched him under the ribs, knocking the breath out of him, making him drop his sword, and allowing them to switch the positions. Castras quickly regained his breath and fought as hard as he could but he could feel himself tiring. He was a spell-sword, used to swords and magic, not hand-to-hand fighting. He really should have learned that beforehand.

Finally, the attacker restrained his hands above his head and that's when he could feel the metal of their armor. He was extremely glad that the fools of this land loved metal armor. It made his job as a lighting-type mage so much easier. He grabbed the attacker's wrists and sent a bolt of electricity through their body. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air and the attacker fell to the floor, either unconscious or dead. The bolt hadn't been particularly strong nor had it been weak.

Castras let out a deep breath. Azura damn him, the fight left him weak in the knee and he struggled to stand, having to use the dresser as support. Who the fuck wanted him dead so badly?

After a few minutes, he was feeling stronger and the attacker was still on the floor. Castras cast a quick Detect Life spell and saw that the attacker was, in fact, still breathing. They were close to death but still alive as it was. He brought a fire to his hands andpicked up the lantern on the nightstand and lit it, revealing the face of his attacker.

This time it was not a Nord, but rather one pretty female Dunmer wearing common clothes. He searched her body and found a note in her front pocket.

_Ilasari, you are to eliminate the mage Castras Telvanni. He is staying at the Bannered Mare in Whiterun, according to our recent reports. Kill him in any way you see fit, but you must bring back his Telvanni robes as proof. The contact said that the Telvanni hate departing from their beloved robes and the only way she will believe he is dead is if we present the robes. I figure they just want the robes for themselves but who am I to question a contract. Money is money. You'll be paid 1,000 septims for this; he's wronged the woman in some way and wants him dead as soon as possible. This is your initiation kill; do this and you're officially in the Dark Brotherhood. Kill him quickly and return to me at the Shrine of Talos in Markarth. _

_-Astrid_

Castras reeled back. The fucking Dark Brotherhood was after him? He hadn't wronged anyone! Even on Solstheim he had barely seen anyone except Teldryn Saro, his uncle's steward, his cook, the alchemist, his uncle's apprentice, and, of course, his uncle. On his trek here, he'd stopped at multiple taverns and inns, but never visited with anyone but the person behind the bar. That was it. He'd traveled with a Khajiit caravan on its way south but talked to anyone except the leaders, Ri'Saad. He'd spoken to Ri'Saad a lot because he was curious about the beast race; they never came to Solstheim, too much ash in their fur. He'd learned a lot about them from the old cat. He simply loved their accents, culture, just everything about them. They'd parted, them going to find a friend in the Imperial City jails after a bit of gambling and drinking, him going back north to Skyrim. There were those Nord fellows he'd knocked out shortly before Helgen but he doubted he'd call on the Dark Brotherhood, he was too proud, he'd rather send his own men-who couldn't get through the front gate- or do it himself.

He'd harmed no one who hadn't attacked him first, he hadn't… hadn't… His thoughts trailed off as a realization came to him. He_had _harmed someone, but it was years and years ago, when he was just a boy. He could feel himself slipping into a flashback. He and another boy, Dunar, a brown-haired Imperial boy who was about his age and lived in Raven Rock, had often played together; he and his uncle had often traveled there for supplies before his uncle had secured a regular drop-off with a merchant in town. He had often played with Dunar, but one time, Castras had suggested that they go explore the closed mine. Dunar had been reluctant but Castras wore him down and convinced him to explore. They'd gone quite a ways inside before they found this giant room with a huge door. The way back was blocked so they had had no choice but to go forward. They found a large sword, made of an indescribable material, etched with makings that glowed crimson and when you swung it, it sent out a ray of red energy. They racked their brains and, after finding no switch/lever to open the door, figured the sword opened the door with the blasts of energy. A little ways from the sword, they found a skeleton with a journal that belonged to one of Dunar's relatives that'd gone missing a few decades ago

They used the sword to open the door and they'd continued on, taking the sword with them. They found a giant chamber, the floor filled with water, although it wasn't that deep, it barely came to their ankles. At the end of the room was a coffin and a giant wall that whispered to Castras. Dunar warned him not to go near it, but Castras had ignored him. Soon he was standing in front of the wall and could read the ancient language that looked like it was scratched onto it. He instinctively knew it was Dovah, the language of the dragons. His uncle had told him that there were multiple Word Walls scattered throughout the world, but no one knew how to decipher them so they just stood there, without a purpose. The scratching on the Wall roughly translated into: Pah Werid Morokei Miraak Zok Suleykaar Do Pah Sonaak Wen MUL Bolaav Naal Fahluaan Do Jul.

Castras was suddenly filled with power; raw power coming from the Wall and the whispers from the wall told him what the Wall said: _ All praise glorious Miraak, most powerful servant of all Dragon Priests, whose strength was granted by the gardener of mankind. _One word in particular stood out to him and seemed to… to _glow_. The Word Mul (strength) glowed brighter and brighter, and seemed to reach out to him with tendrils of power, filling his body. The whispering turned into chanting in an ancient language; the chanting was so loud and so fast, he couldn't understand what it was saying. He pressed his hands to his head and fell to his knees but the chanting just got louder and louder, meanwhile he was feeling more power. Finally, the chanting stopped… But the power was still there. Dunar walked over to him and was about to touch him when he stopped. Castras looked up at him and Dunar backed away in horror, stating that there was something different about him, that there was something powerful in his eyes that he was afraid of. Castras pushed the power down inside of him, harnessing it instinctively inside his core. He let out a breath and looked back up at Dunar but the damage was done, the boy was afraid of him. They were leaving and almost out through agate, when the coffin's lid flew off, revealing a floating, evil-looking monstrosity. It was carrying a staff that it pointed at them, they started to run toward the raised gate. They could lock it on the other side. It had started floating toward them, shooting bursts of lighting at them. Castras managed to get behind the gate first and was holding onto the chain to pull so Dunar and he could be safe when Dunar was struck in the back with a Bolt. Castras cried out and dropped the red sword behind the gate, running toward his friend. He pulled him onto his back and carried him behind the gate and pulled the chain, locking the monster inside the chamber. It roared in frustration and shot a few bolts at them before realizing it couldn't hit them anymore. That's when Castras noticed that it didn't have a face. It was wearing some sort of weird mask that glowed, showing Castras that it was enchanted.

He put the monster out of his mind; it couldn't hurt them anymore and turned his attention to Dunar. Neloth had taught him a few powerful healing spells but he hadn't been very focused on them, considering them not very useful. He remembered what he'd said to Neloth that'd earned him a beating, "_If I'm so powerful, then I can just destroy an enemy before it attacks me and therefore, I won't be injured so all of this is worthless_." He remembered the incantation for one and began it, and a golden glow started flowing from his fingers and over onto the injured boy. His chest was rising and falling so he was still alive, and it seemed to get stronger the more he chanted. Eventually he feel his magicka running out so he had to stop but he thought it was sufficient enough to sustain the boy until he could get him to the local alchemist, or better, Neloth. They'd been down there for quite a while; they surely must've noticed them gone.

That's when he saw the Book on a pedestal . It was black, old, and very thick. On the front cover, it had a diagram of a writhing mass of tentacles that seemed to actually _move_. A dark aura poured from it; he made note to tell Uncle Neloth about this place so he could remove the monster and the book.

He pulled the boy onto his back again and picked up the sword. He'd left the place behind and had made it into a series of towers where the worse thing could've been waiting for them, was: a very worried and a very, very pissed off Uncle Neloth, tapping his foot, and looking as if he wanted to strike Castras down right then and there, but he was too focused on Dunar.

He listened patiently through Castras' story of the monster and their exploration of the mine while tending to Dunar, only stopping to comment every now and then how stupid he was for going down there without him. When he was done tending to the boy and done listening through Castras' story, he asked to see the blade they'd found. Castras handed it over to him and he examined it closely, swinging it a few times to see the energy. He told him to wait right there with Dunar and went inside the mine, back to the monster.

He emerged an hour later, holding the mask Castras had seen on the monster and the Black Book he'd seen inside. He told Castras to never again speak of the book, the blade, and the mask to anyone but himself. They could do nothing more for the boy and returned him to his mother. When Neloth handed the boy over, his mother accused _him _of hurting her precious little boy, an accusation that he quickly denied. She refused to believe him and even had the nerve to send the guards after him. They brought him to the current Guard Captain and they went into a private area and had a discussion that ended with Neloth walking out a free elf. Most of the people in town had already thought he was crazy but now they refused to do business with him, due to Dunar's mom spreading lies about him throughout town. But thankfully, one merchant knew Neloth well enough and set up the drop-off in secret and when he died, his daughter continued to do it.

Castras brought himself to the present, in his room with the near-dead assassin, and came to terms that there was only one person who would've set that hit on him: Dunar's mother, Sharil Maren.

**To Be Continued…**

**A/N: Alright, now this time I have a good excuse. I have no Wi-Fi nor cable. I'm only able to post the few I have since I'm not at home currently. I don't know how long it will be till I get it back, but know that I'm sorry and still trying to think of a way to post chapters. So, until then, enjoy what I've already posted over and over and over 'til it makes you puke!**


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